“Guests are like fish, they begin to smell after three days” Benjamin Franklin said. I’m not sure you need to wait that long.
It’s been good to see Charles shake hands and chat with Gerry Adams (something no one from the DUP has got round to doing yet). There are those who see it as cow-towing to royalty. I didn’t notice Gerry cowing or towing, except you count the bit where he leaned in to hear what the royal one was saying. Charles did the right thing some 36 years after his uncle’s death. But let’s not forget the magnanimity Gerry showed in shaking the hand of the Colonel-in-Chief of the Parachute Regiment. What’s important to Sinn Féin is to show that the violence of the Troubles and its hatreds are things of the past. If Martin McGuinness and Gerry Adams shaking hands with and talking to the Royals doesn’t do it, it’s hard to think what will. I don’t see it as a sell-out; I see it as politically pace-setting and smart.
But now it’s done, maybe Charles and Camilla should head for the airport. I find myself beginning to wince as yet another excited school-girl or mature matron tells with ear-to-ear grin of the thrill they had when the prince spoke to them. I don’t think it’s an exclusively royal thing, really: I think it’s the insatiable appetite ‘ordinary’ people have to be near to or noticed by someone famous. It’s a sad sort of way to get affirmation for your life but it’s an undeniable fact: there are people who would swim through a sea of snot for one soft word from someone famous.
Enough’s enough, though. I’ve begun to notice Camilla’s fixed smile. I remember the reason Charles was carrying that cup of tea when he shook hands with Gerry: the royal one has difficulty with using both hands. As a rule he slots the spare one into his tailored jacket pocket. I’m beginning to make gouge-marks with my nails when I hear Mary McAleese talk of “our near and dear neighbours”. Near yes; but dear neighbours don’t move into one of your rooms – or does even saying that spoil the fairytale?
I know I’m a bad person, but wouldn’t it have been gas if a reporter had asked Charles, live, had he thought of taking his soldiers and claim to jurisdiction home with him? Although that would have been to break protocol: you’re supposed to wait for the royal one to speak first before you open your gob.
Time for peace, Charlie boy. Here’s your hat and what’s your hurry.
I find the whlole thing sickening,,all this guff about good neighbours when they continue to occupy part of our country,it’s a joke,and the jokes on Paddy as usual.
Funny to see how differently it was reported on RTE and BBC,I swear I think a large bulk of the population of this ‘free state’ would like to be part of the empire again, the west brits are alive and well.
I thought the shaking hands with Gerry was done to show how insignificant it was to Charlie,him and his cup of frign tea, they say if you live long enough you’ll see it all, I doubt the men in the H blocks ever thought they’d see the day.
Tiocfaidh ar La and all that.
Cé a bhí sceith an t-eolas?/Who was the source of the leak?
How much will it cost the taxpayer to subsidise Charles and his retinue in Ireland? I thought we had run out of money. How much has it cost the tax payer to fund contentious marches, bonfires and flag protests since the signing of the Good Friday Agreement/Comhaontú Aoine an Chéasta on 10 April 1998?
There does not appear to be a problem funding pay increases, subsidising food and wine for elected representatives while others are forced to take pay cuts or live on the minimum wage. Please do not forget those elected representatives/double jobbers who boast they have free time at weekends to engage in extra-curricular lobbying for an appropriate fee, well above the minimum wage.
Today we learn of yet one more manufactured crisis in relation to proposed welfare cuts. The crisis is being talked up on the basis of a ‘leaked document.’ Prophets of doom are comparing the north of Ireland to a third world country, people without homes and food banks.
The reality is that people are already sleeping rough and some families depend on food banks. The reality is that Scotland did not vote for austerity. The reality is that very few people voted for Tory candidates in the last election on this part of the island. The reality is that the Tories do not have an electoral mandate in the north of Ireland. The reality is that we are emerging from a protracted period of conflict exacerbated by British security policy. It has just dawned on Mike Jackson, late of the Parachute Regiment, that there are unique political problems in the sick counties which demand political initiatives not conscription, punitive spending cuts or leaks from spin doctors.
Well said lolar. Behind the curtain the pigs may have their truffles, and what damn difference will an over inflated Monarchy, with adherents’ to this crown here, allowed to burn revenue feverishly in keeping their hatefests contained. Maybe if King Charles the third to be, was to announce to the loyal lodges, that he didn’t want their venomous loyalty, and that the Crown was closing its perimeter fences given the inevitable fracture in the union, beginning with Scotland?
It will be a bitter pill for the zealous loyalists, when their is simply no-one left in whom you can give your allegiance.
English Republicans are starting to make that little bit more impact. The domino effect, when even the English shake off the childish absurdity of Monarchy, will leave Unionists here, forced to reconcile….
That, or take out some Eugene Terreblanche style coup d’état in the six counties, where they might then resume their full blown supremacist project as of old.
The Vanguard have not decommissioned their MI5 Weapons from Apartheid SA. And the “Committee”, adeptly exposed by Channel Four and Sean Mc Philemy, shows how many panicked before in the high church of Unionism, scrambling for an “Ulster against the wall” doomsday provision, regardless they kept the assassinations fluid.
Will they reconcile, or will they revolt against equality as they at every small step have…..Ironic, that Loyalists, some so loyal, might shoot King Charles to prove their devotion to this elusive Crown. Someone should tell them quickly, that “the Emperor isn’t wearing any clothes”…..soon not even a helmet filled with pillaged precious stones perhaps
To Ireland Saoirse and Iolar, it does beggar beleif all the wasteful spending on providing security and lodging for these two. If the ‘prince’ had apologized for Bloody Sunday and Ballymurphy (among others) then I see the handshakes as possibly trying to say we need to move on, but without that apology, the handshake means nothing, especially as Dr Collins has pointed out, the DUP members have yet to shake Adams or McGuinness hands.
The ‘our near and dear neighbors” comments are sickening. England has never been a good neighbor to Ireland. It has abused Ireland for its own selfish needs. It has never shown mercy or benevolence toi Ireland. Ireland can not even get information on the largest single loss of life, Dublin/Monaghan. Near yes, dear not so much. Good neighbors help each other in a give and take sort of way. There has been no “give” from England only “take”. and that is not a neighbor but a thief
In keeping with the fish of the day,those who know their place,do no mention críochdheighilt na hÉireann.
Fish is right, and also the attendant showing to the door ,Esteemed Blogmeister, though it is not as if RTE’s Royal Reporting Division have seen fit to mention it.
Not least in their coverage of the Sligo segment of the Visit in the lordly tones of the Q’s English. Which is not to say that RTE is to be criticised for their restraint; rather the opposite.For indeed their restraint was prompted from the very best of motives – impartiality – and are indeed deserving of the highest and the warmest of praise.
It was, or course, the fishing primarily which drew Rear Admiral Mountbatten to the picturesque and piscatorial port of Mullaghmore. But fishing is essentially a daylight pursuit and there is no evidence that Dickie (forgive the familiarity but it is relevant to the denouement) ever got to join up with the local poachers as they patrolled the banks of the rivers and lakes in the district..
Known locally as ‘lampers’ these coarse fishermen specialised in the finer arts of nocturnal angling especially during the salmon season, armed only with bicycle lamps,spare batteries, nets and hurling sticks. So much for Sligo being solely a stronghold of the bogball.
Which is not to say that Dickie confined his activities to the daylight hours. Au contraire. There was one specific attraction which made him continually sneak out the back door of Classiebawn Castle, hop on his Honda 50 and away like the clappers. Revving up he effed off blissful in the knowledge that his darling Edwina, the former Vicereine of India no less, knew not an iota about his surreptitious departures.. Or, perhaps more to the point, caring less even if she did.
For it is an essential facet of the Royal protocol that under no circumstances, except in the extremely rare event of a blue moon and for procreation purposes solely, that happily wedlocked couples ever share a common bedroom.
As Dickie himself was often fond of chortling, to anyone who would listen: ‘Edwina and I spent most of our married getting in and out of other people’s beds !’.
So, what was the nocturnal destination du nuit of Dickie?
To frequent the local hotel where the Summer Residency was the prerogative of a famous figure of the County Tyrone of the Fabulous Fifties. Thady Thurbett? Not, actually it was the mighty Malachy Doris himself. Himself that is and his Ceili and Olde Tyme Band.
(Lovers of the leprechaun will notice the haphazard collision of a fish and a door once again).
No, Dickie’s destination was a deal more distant, even unto the heartland of darkest Donegal itself. But the Rear Admiral’s trusty mode of transport mocked at the distance involved, be it as long as his very own name: Seine Durchlaucht Prinz Ludwig Von Battenberg.
‘My little Honda 50, she’s rapid and she’s nifty
She’ll get you away from the Guards any day;
Oh, my little Honda 50, she’s rapid and she’s nifty
She’ll do a hundred and fifty on a windy day’.
Up then through Barnesmore Gap in a northward direction on the Tottenham Hotspur Highway, as it is known locally and which sobriqet always made him feel very much at home, stopping only to fill up now and again at an infrequent Burma petrol station. For nostalgia’s sake he would also pause at the greasy spoon caff known as ‘The Bally Buffet’.
There to reminisce while scoffing his de rigeur plate of Indian curry and erm, batter burger doused in Tabasco sauce, as an appetiser as it were, about his days of wine and rose shaded cummerbunds. When he’d be sharing a divan, in the interests of stability, both domestic and political, with both Edwina and the love of her life who never shied away from,erm, currying favour with her.
That would be, of course, J for Jawaharalal Nehru himself. Or, as both Lord and Lady M referred to him, in terms that were playful: ‘that jackammer in a jacket’
Realpolitik can be a real impish pimp, betimes.
And while he would be scoffing his vindaloo the soundtrack in ‘The Bally Buffet’ would invariably consist of the Tommy Edwards hit of the times:
‘Many a tear has to fall
But it’s all in the game
All in the wonderful game
That we know as love’.
Now, the reason why this evocative song inserted itself as the theme music of the caff in q. was because of its proximity to McCumhail Park where many a Tyr had to fall in many a wonderful game between dear and friendly neighbours, Tryone and Tryconaill.
(Non-pop music anoraks pass by: Tommy, Edwards the singer of the song, was so Christened because both his parents, Ruth and Dudley had a particular affection not to mention gra for that evocative first name).
But, of course, Dickie had a different love in mind. And many miles still to go, before he reached his final destination for the night, and indeed most nights:
The large castellated mansion erected in the Scottish baronial style, Glenveagh Castle.
And then home to one, Henry Plumer McIlhenny, heir to the Tabasco Sauce fortunes (though it could have been much Worcester than that).
Perkie grew up hearing many tales about said Henry as he was once described by his own cousin, once removed, Andy Warbeck, pop artist extraordinaire, as ‘the only man with any glamour in Philadelphia’.
Henry imported the same glamour in the guise of Greta Garbo, Clark Gable, Charlie Chaplin and Marilyn Monroe who were his guests during his Summer Season.Hollywood royalty, as it were. Not to mention, of course, the hero of the Honda 50 in this briefless, oops, brief narrative.
Bearing in mind, the strict Warbeckian code once famously enunciated by Micakaleen Flynn in The Quiet Man: ‘no patty fingers, please, the proprieties at all times’ Perkie would now like to draw a decorous veil over the details of those nocturnal jaunts.
Apart from the obvious ones that are easily obtained on Google in these vulgar times: such as the nickname which the Rear Admiral was known in the Royal Navy by tars,both jolly and not so jolly: Lord Mountbottom; and the reason the Rear Admiral was called ‘Dickie’ despite the absence of any ‘Richard in his royal cornucopia of first names; and the common chum both host and guest shared in common: Noel Coward, who, erm, died many a time in their company before his death.
And, of course, the original leprechaun of Glenveagh: ‘Gleann Bheithe: Glen of the Birch Trees’.
Say no more, Seymour.
Now, the critically acclaimed Royal Reporting Division of RTE knew all these inclusive details, and yet, in a magnificent display of restraint, refrained from mentioning.
For fear, of course,/ ni ga a ra, of weighing the balance too much in favour of the Hissy Yis side in the Referendum de dum to come which coincided with The Visit of Charlie’s ‘Aunt’ quite coincidentally.
For, the Grandfather which Prince Charles never Had, was also The Husband who had the Husband he never Had.
Re-spect.
PS Thump ! Thump ! Thump!
Schrodinger, demanding, as usual, an explanation. In this case the reason why the road joining Ballyshannon and Raphoe was called locally The Totenham Hopspur Highway.
As follows: on account of the two local Fine Gael TDs who simultaneously held seats at the two extremities: Jim White and Paddy Hart. Hence The White Harte Lane, hence….
‘
Perkie – go raibh cead maith agat for that masterful pillion ride. Lord Mountbottom, eh? And not to mention (but I will – re-mention) Tommy Edwards. Now if you’d put me up against a wall and thrust a revolver in my mouth (an unhappy experience an unhappy – and deceased – namesake of mine had) I’d have said ” ‘All In The Game’? Why, that’s Conway Twitty, of course” . But I’d have been wrong – Tommy, Tommy, how could I forget you, when you threaded your notes through my young manhood….I’m off to Google …Ta again for the ride, chum. Chin up. There’ll always be an England…
Your confusion regarding the songs of the Fabulous Fifties when the Honda 50 was in its prime, Esteemed Blogmeister, is imperfectly understandable.
Back in that much dissed decade it was this peculiar tendency of the singers and songwriters to concentrate on that which they were actually good at,i.e. music. This led to a plethora (which is Tsin Pan Alley for tsunami) of singable songs which had singers shouldering each other out of the way in a healthy scramble to record the songs.
Thus, songs like ‘It’s all in the game’ would have had many cover versions.
This doesn’t happen in the disaster-prone ‘musical’ landscape of today. Where formerly there was a tsunami of tsingagble tsongs, now there is just a tsunami.
When it comes to contemporary ceol
There’s an absence of quality control
And lyrics are oghamed on a toilet roll.
When not tackling the famines in Africa (or rather the media coverage of same) modern day ‘musicians’ seem to spend most of their time shouldering each other out of the way in their diseased scramble to hog the communicable headlines to do with the latest tsunami.
More about photo oppor-toon- ities than toons.
This could well be related to a a total lack of musical whack. Compare and contrast the musical careers of say, Berry, Chuck and Bono, Upchuck.
Conway Twitty, like Lady Windermere but unlike James Galway, uplifted his uplifting name from his school atlas. As in Conway, Arkansas and Twitty, Texas. He was actually born Harold Lloyd Jenkins, in a nod of appreciation to the silent movie star. We are all the better off for his choosing the sound over the silence.
While both his stage name and biggest pop musical hit were only, erm, make believe, in the country genre his self-penned ‘Hello Darling’ was the biggie. This catchy song caught the attention of two of the country called Ireland’s most prominent singers in that genre: Roly Daniels and ‘Holy’ Daniel.
The greatly underrated Roly has the distinction of being an Indian-born crooner who could carry a toon from cowboy-land with the v. best. Lord Mountbottom, of course, was not exactly unfamiliar with the unholy cow boys of India.
The sublimeTommy Edward’s ‘It’s all in the game’ has a not uninteresting musical pedigree. It’s toon started life as a wordless song called ‘Melody in A Major’.in 1912. This ethereal air which did not strain the ear was composed by one, Charles Dawes. Who later became Cal Coolidge’s pal and Vice President.
Or, Silent Cal as this contemporary of Harold Lloyd was known and whose death prompted the legendary remark of Dolly Parker’s: ‘How can they tell?’.
A contemporary of Tommy Edwards’ was Percy Sledge and indeed it was Percy’s monster hit rather than Tommy’s which Lord Mountbatten-burger might well have heard in the greasy spoon caff known as ‘The Bally Buffet’. Even as he retraced the route on his nifty Honda 50 once made famous in song by Johnson’s Motor Car.
The only reason why Percy’s hit was not played was due to over-play due to the caff’s proximity to MacCumhail Park.
Would it strain the frontiers of credulity if it was more widely known that Percy Sledge’s middle name was the T name?
Percy Tyrone Sledge.
(Would – could ! – Perkie make-believe this up about Percy, one of his fav singers from his fav decade?)
Incidentally, prepare to lend ye your ears tomorrow to a remastering and remake of Percy’s monster hit by a celebratory boy-band down South ‘
-:’When a man loves a man’.
Solo will be sung by Whamnesty’s George Michael sound-alike: Colm O Gor-Man.
To conclude with the Man of the Mo: Rear Admiral Mountbottom.
He, unlike C. Twitty who was influenced by Texas, actually influenced The :Lone Star State. Or, specifically this influencing was done by his vehicle of choice, his Honda 50. Which was, for those who had not the advantage of living through the in-tune Fifties, w the Harley Davidson of its day.
Take Waco, f’instance.
The recent shoot-out there between the biker gangs was correctly reported as being down to a dispute over parking spaces outside the topless bar known as ‘Twin Peaks’.
Was was crucially NOT reported was that ‘parking’ in bikerspeak for ‘Parker-Bowles’.
Yes, this is the same hero/heroine of the two literary works ‘Charley’s Aunt’ and ‘Travels with my Aunt’ (the latter is colloquially known in publishing circles as ‘Bowel Movements’).
Of course, Camilla the Chameleon did not start off life as either a Parker, a Bowel, a Windsor, or even a Saxe , a Coburg or a Gotha itself.
(Coimead greim ar do chlogad anseo, a chara / Hold on to your helmet at this stage, pillion chum ! )
But – and this where the mighty Malachy Doris himself comes into play – Shand.
Camilla Rosemary Shand.
Yes, the same identical name as the leader of the White Heather Ceili bandsman himself,Oor Jammie of Aughtermuchtie itself.
And of course, ca va sans dire / ni ga a ra, ‘a Jimmy Shand’ is Rear Admiral Mountbottom-speak for a – how’s yer father.
The mighty Malachy D was not behind the door when it came to Texas, neither:: check out his ‘Rose of San Antone’. A rival of his -‘Pretty Little Girl from Omagh’ as the sweetest toon in a particular LP of MD’s. And in no way to be confused with Camilla Rosemary of Waco, Tx.
PS Perkie once had the honour of meeting Malachy Doris, a hero of his from the Walton Programme when RTE had some claim to be an Irish wireless station where Irish dongs if one so wanted same, were dinged.
it is said that it is a bad idea to meet one’s heroes. This was not Perkie’s experience.In the hotel at Mullaghmore, he found Malachy to be a perfectly normal human being, a true gentleman, even though a Tyrone native.
Anyone less like a solicitor one could not imagine.
Perkie – I’m back – temporarily – to quote the first line of ‘A short biography of Lord Mountbatten’ on google: “A British statesman and naval officer, Louis Francis Albert Victor Nicholas Mountbatten was a man of honor.’ Less giggling at the back, there…
I know I’m a bad person,
Probably the only thing that you and me would ever agree on!
You shouldn’t put yourself down like that, really! You have viewpoints, and views can evolve productively, or regress destructively, but in remaining static it could be argued strongly that they are regressive…..
All that aside Neil credit to you for putting points through. Your voice is as valid as anyone’s, so don’t be so hard on yourself, or otherwise despondent. This is one big conversation trying to look for meaningful and sustainable progression…there is no damn way any of us in our contributions to the greater project, always get it right.
You have courage to voice things against the tide on this forum so fair play ta ya. None of us can ever live in a permanent trench, from wherever we hail. You are not a bad person because you ventured forth your own views. If they stand up to scrutiny, or don’t stand up to scrutiny, we are all of us, much richer for the conversations.
Now that’s what I call a worthwhile contribution, Francis. Maith thú!
why do you keep commenting here ?
I wonder if he would have let his brother sexually abuse his daughter and do his best to hide it like you sainted leader just a thought?
Perkie, I fear you do the Musical Malachi a great injustice by not giving him his full title.
For his legal use I remember he always signed himself E Malachi Doris in the most compressed writing you could imagine.
By contrast you give Dickie his full Seine Durchlaucht Ludwig von Battenberg – I hope in the wake of a recent court decision you’re not hinting that he might have had a connection with a gay cake.
When is a leaked document not a leaked document?
When its prepared by the DUP who then give it to their Shankill Road Prod mate Stephen Nolan to dramatise it for them.
The DUP have been feeling very much left out of the reflected glory of Sinn Fein’s successful series of meetings this week with Charlie Windsor, so naturally they get their dirty tricks department to try to change the news headlines.
But they are not on their own as Enda Kenny tried to prevent the handshake with Gerry Adams, and they are supposed to be co-guarantors of the peace process. Such behaviour is unbelievable!
By the way, an article in today’s Daily Mail on the day in Galway included a letter from a lady who remarked on the similarity in appearance between Charlie and his ‘beloved uncle’ Dickie Mountbatten.
Makes me wonder whether there may be any truth to the old rumours about their relationship being more close than admitted, especially in view of Perkie’s thoughts on how the nickname ‘Dickie’ came about.
But then, I could be wrong!
Sherdy
I believe Jude did a Blog recently on Nolan’s atheism. Pretty certain he’s not from the Shankill Rd and I’d be confident he’s no friend of the DUP.
Pretz – as an inveterate masochist I listen to Nolan regularly and he has of waxed lyrically about his upbringing on the Shankill (the top end of it of course, not the lower class lower end) and has admitted the Protestant part of the upbringing (although he does now publicly admit to being an atheist – not sure if he’s a lapsed atheist yet).
Nolan, despite his apparently gregarious character, is essentially a lonely person, but his friendship does lean towards the DUP, otherwise why would they have ‘leaked’ their latest budget document to him personally?
If you studied how he treats Sinn Fein interviewees as opposed to those from the DUP you would not be in any doubt about which way he leans (politically, of course).
Sherdy
As I pointed out he’s not from the Shankill. There is no upper-class part of the Shankill Rd that I’m aware of. I must say I like your sexual innuendo – that always works for me. As gio mentioned it’s really a case of lem ones and are ones. As for self inflicted pain I think it’s Jude keeps you coming back for more.
Sherdy
You can’t just make unfounded accusations about people like that.
Or you shouldn’t be able to, though seemingly you can.
Where is your evidence that Stephen Nolan is somehow in league with the DUP? I have heard many many interviews where he gives DUP ministers a hard time.
Or is your evidence that he is a ‘Shankill Rd Prod’?
You didn’t compose that ‘prods v taigs’ election leaflet for Gerry Kelly by any chance?
gio
What were you thinking of when asking Sherdy if he composed that election leaflet? The explanation for that grand plan was a whole lot closer to home on Planet Jude. The Star Wars project, N. Belfast, FST and Upper Bann all sectarian driven and all failures.
pretzel
Take your logic away somewhere else it is not needed around here.
Assertions based on prejudice are the order of the day. Nolan is a prod so he must be mates with the DUP, that is all there is to it.
I despair.
E Malachi Doris was a Cookstown solicitor who most definitely never played in a ceili band.He was far too posh for anything like that.You’re mixing him up with a different Malachy Doris altogether.!
MC – I bow to your superior knowledge. I didn’t think the Cooktown area was big enough to handle two Malachy Dorises.
Jude
What’s your view on the marriage referendum today?
Are you not giving us your thoughts?